a page of my diary

I had no voice but i wanted to scream.

I have no favorite poets,writers or what not but I know of the good ones, I fear if i idolized anyone i would fall into wanting to be their copycat image. But I didn't need anyone to listen that's why i talked to the paper, I didn't care if everyone or no one read it because i just needed to know i wasn't invisible to myself. I used to ignore myself, i still tend to freak out at the thought of opening my mouth because I am a ticking bomb needing to explode and be freed.

Sometimes the fear of a person knowing the truth of a matter keeps my lines trapped within, causing me to write in code. Being abandoned too many times made me feel people were always rejecting me as a person and weren't ready for the truth of my feelings, so i was the doormat on the outside and a complete stranger to them on the inside. This double life has kept me closer to paper and pens than I would like to admit. They are not capable of leaving me, they have been my muted lover,family,friend and saviour.

My head was always elsewhere. I'm 24 and i can only really recall moments of the past 2 years only because i've been living them. The suprising uprising came when I wanted to not be scared to live. Fear is still a hard word to swallow, it surrounds an abused mind like air.

I had to understand that expressing is what i have always wanted, not to become a poet, or writer or song writer or author of a book. No, I just want to express, and whatever form it came in being poetry, a story, a photo, a drawing a painting a dream or whatever i was not opposed, i wanted to show others how to express, help them find the missing links that mute and hinder who they are. The submitting of my writing was to find people willing to show me how to improve this so that I can communicate better to others. Being misunderstood alot is discouraging when all you're trying to do is communicate.

knowing you don't want to be quiet any longer about all the feelings you've wanted to scream starts with truth and courage. Being ready to show both so that others might get something out of it means putting yourself out there so that they can see, there is nothing to fear but truly fear itself.

the leap

I found the path. I feared the moment the truth of this would be brought before my eyes. I am being forced to show courage for what it is I say I love. They desire proof, they want the evidence that I am made to do this. What standards are they using to measure my success? Will it be enough to stop the force that is, my passion? Will it be enough to change my mind, how will I know if they are tearing me apart because of jealousy or because my greatest isn't good enough? How will I know?
The frustration of it is killing me. I'm trying not to use any substance to make the wait worth being patient for, i'm trying not to see that sitting in the waiting room for this long is not punishment, but for endurance. But I am getting discouraged by the days of no replies, i'm starting to think it was a waste, and I am almost embarassed, for if I were good enough they would have recognized it like one does love at first sight.
But even the amazing ones were ahead of their time and were seen through rose colored glasses. Will I be buried before they see me for who I am? May I have the endurance, may the passion carry me through all of my days when tears, depression, rejection, loneliness, and doubt are knocking at my door begging me to take up something that will surely be my demise. I have no beginning in this for I am not the first, just another puzzle piece to the equation, my end will only show my truest efforts in pushing this in what i felt was the best direction.
Passion please be my everlasting battery and I swear to put my heart into all of this, that I might help others unfold before their mirror.

All I want out of all of this is for you to read and feel. That is, what I desire.